


Tea and Patience

by shaedespot



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Common Cold, Doctor/Patient, Embarrassment, First Time, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Sherlock, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 20:57:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2746790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaedespot/pseuds/shaedespot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Is kind of a bad doctor when feelings get in the way of his work. Feeling his flatmate to be exact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea and Patience

 

"Stop whining!"

"John it hurts!” The tall man whirled around in the dim living room scattering his papers on the floor and stepping all over them. He staggered, the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes.

John watched the melodrama from the kitchen as he stirred honey into some hot water.

"If you stop whinging on at the top of your lungs, it wouldn't hurt as much!"  John set the tea aside, crossed the room, and grasped Sherlock by the arms. He manhandled him over to sit onto the couch, and pressed an index finger to Sherlock’s breast, "stay there," he warned, out of breath.

His companion huffed one last whine before flopping back dramatically against the cushions. John was near the end of his patience. Sherlock hadn’t stopped scuttling around all morning trying to act like he didn’t have a massive head cold and getting snot on everything.

"Just relax! For gods sake, you’ve been sick for a day and a half, stop trying to work, you’ll just draw it out longer.”

“It’s horrible John, I’m wasting hours incapacitated in the flat when there are cases to be solved!"

" You have nothing on!"

" But there are cases out there!"

John shook his head.

Sherlock looked away, obviously John didn’t understand, the consulting detective sat glancing desperately around the room for distraction breathing raggedly through his one unblocked nostril. His skin was white-pale except his eyes, nose, and mouth were the brightest red. He snorted in. John eyed him a moment with his doctors stare before heading back to the tea he had started. Behind him he heard stomping around again and then the scrape of bow on string. A beautiful lilt of song began and then " ahhh, ahhhh, ahh! CHOOO!"

John turned around to witness a horrified Holmes gasping at his beboogered violin.

" John I can'd work like dis!" Sherlock barked at him accusingly, trying to clean off his instrument with a fist full of tissues.

John sighed. Mug in hand, he escorted his frazzled flat mate back to the sofa.

" Sit here. You want to get over this yeah? Then listen to your doctor, and get your temperature up. Your body will kill off the virus, but creating antibodies takes time."

Sherlock scoffed but lay back crossing his arms.

" Drink this, its lemon and honey in hot water it will help soothe your throat"

Sherlock went to sip it, but recoiled, “It’s burning hot!"

John sipped it himself, “No, its all right, it just feels hot because your body is hyper sensitized right now, you've got a bit of otolaryn inflammation.”

"Otherwise I’m a mess,” Sherlock growled looking piteous.

John sipped the drink again to make sure before passing it back to Sherlock. "Sip it, honestly it will make you feel better, I’m going to get a blanket from your bed.”

" Don’t disturb the- COUGH- funguses-COUGH"

John shuddered; he flicked on the light in his flat mate’s oddly tidy yet disgustingly decorated room. There was a layer of dust on everything, intentional, and creepy things floating in green jars on almost every surface, meticulously labeled. On the bed was an arrangement of these jars with various films of fuzzy mold at the bottom. John carefully rearranged the jars on the floor and headed back to the living room with the blanket.

Sherlock eyed him suspiciously upon his return; John shook his head, " don’t look at me like that, you’re the one with the Zen mildew garden growing in your bed,"

“Stachybotrys is a family of asexually reproducing fungi.” He grumbled.

“Lovely that you’ve named them,” John teased, as he arranged the blanket around Sherlock’s shoulders. Left to his own devices, over the past two days, Sherlock had not slept at all or downed any fluids, and he had elected to wear only thin pajama bottoms with a shirt John could see through. He was practically asking to get sick.

“All right lets start this fever, get you back in the game, lay down," John pushed on his shoulders.

Sherlock closed his eyes defeatedly, and flopped onto his side.

" You’re such a brat, you probably don’t even have a cold you’re just trying to get my attention; you knew I was going out with the new folks from work tonight." John needled.

"Everything hurts," Sherlock growled in a manner of lazy protest.

John arranged the blankets around Sherlock’s curled up feet on the sofa and sat down.

He looked out across the distroyed living room covered in  tissue balls. Outside the tall windows he noticed a light drizzle had begun. Perfect, he thought, for encouraging his patient to stay in and restore his health. Sherlock hated rain, mostly, John thought, because it messed up his hair. John was sure this was the reason behind the detective’s loathing of The Hat as well. John briefly pondered if he would tolerate it as a sick cap, it would be perfect with the earflaps.

Sherlock groaned as if he could read John's thoughts. A hand pawed out from under the blanket and snagged some tissues from the box on the table. It disappeared to the tune of more nose blowing, then the tissues returned, cast upon the floor with the others.

" you know you're cleaning all those up," John grumbled.

Sherlock stretched his legs out over John's lap.

" Oi, now you’ve trapped me in, hey!" John struggled to free himself.

" Good, now you’re stuck here, like me,” came the mumbled reply.

" I can pinch you literally anywhere," John threatened.

"Go ahead, I couldn’t possibly hurt more"

“You’ve just got a headache” John rested his arms over the legs pinning him.

" No, I ache everywhere! My arms, my shoulders, and my legs. Every time I breathe its like trying to expand my chest twice its size, my ribs hurt from coughing, my-"

"- All right, yes, ok," John rubbed Sherlock’s thigh consolingly, which earned him a pleased abatement in the complaining,

" Here, sit up a moment, we’ll do some stretches so you can relax.”

" Yoga?"

" Um not really. Just some stretches we used to do before rugby back my day,"

Sherlock winced up, his head bowed under a hood of blanket. He blew his nose again. John peeled the blanket off of him. He looked horrible. Embarrassed, Sherlock turned away from john, stood up and strode to the center of the living room.

" Ok, bend over and wrap your arms around the back of your legs, SLOWLY, just a slight stretch" Sherlock complied squinting though his knees at John.

" All right now bend your knees and sit down on the carpet, big breaths through your mouth."

Sherlock looked up from his ball on the floor awaiting further commands,

“ Ok now stretch your legs out in front of you and reach down and touch your toes, good, relax,"

" Get me a tissue"

" Here"

Another small white origami decoration bejeweled the floor.

" Ok now spread your legs apart and reach over, trust me you’ll feel better after, just reach over,"

" I know how to warm up John, I used to dance," Sherlock groaned.

" I did not know that"

Sherlock displayed a surprising range of motion. John watched, fascinated, "Why did you stop?"

"Oh I don’t know, crime?"

"Ah, all right now lay back and bring your knees up."

Sherlock flopped back. John walked behind his head and inventoried his body. He noticed, among other things, his flat mate had developed a slight erection, which he was no doubt attempting to hide. John dutifully pretended not to notice," ok now lift your hips up, stretch the front of your body"

Sherlock sighed, very put upon, but lifted up his hips gracefully.

" Ok, now big inhale and hold it"

Sherlock coughed causing all the muscles on his chest to constrict intensely but then took a big breath in, while john counted

"2,3, Ok let it out, you can sit up now,"

" I could do more"

" Yes I’m sure, but this is just warm up for your big sick bed stake out ok?"

Sherlock growled back to sitting .

" Don’t start that again, I’m not going to listen to you miserying for the rest of he night." John wrapped the blanket around his friend’s shoulders and helped him return to the couch. 

Sherlock clutched his head as he sat down. " Oh god, the headache was gone on the floor, as soon as I stood up it came back!"

" Shhhh, breathe, I bet its just sinus pressure. Tilt your head back and I’ll do a pressure point I know.” John soothed

Sherlock looked momentarily surprised but leaned back against John’s chest and stretched out on the couch again.

John pushed his fingers into the dark soft curls and found the little ridges of Sherlock’s skull and pressed.

" Does that feel better?"

" Loads."

" Yeah, grab a tissue your nose might start to run"

Sherlock lent up, snatched a few tissues, and put them on his chest

" Ugh, as soon as I sat up it came back,"

" Yeah, it’s your blood pressure too, just stay sill and relax," John rubbed his fingers gently through Sherlock’s hair. It was so soft and the curls neatly spiraled around his fingers. He pushed Sherlock's head forward slightly and massaged the back of his neck. Sherlock dabbed at his nose quietly for once, John rested his head back on his chest, “here, bend your arms up a second I’ll work on your ribs so they don’t hurt when you breathe"

Sherlock put his hands up and rested them against John's biceps.

John slowly rubbed his fingers between each rib watching Sherlock’s breath deepen. John looked down at his friend, his eyes closed with a tissue stuffed up his nose. A very warm feeling hummed in his chest, he'd never seen him so submissive to his doctoring and it was very endearing. John pushed the blanket aside to get to his lower ribs. He tried not to, but his eyes keep wandering to the obscene curve still pushing up Sherlock’s thin pajamas, surely he had noticed?

Sherlock sighed and took the tissue out of his nose,

" John I- I want to apologize, it just happens from human touch, stupid transport. I really am fed up with it right now and it pops it's head up like, ‘oh, who me?’"

John laughed and patted Sherlock’s side " No, no worries, I'm a doctor I know all about these things,"

"Please don’t stop John, every time you stop it hurts so much, the pressure!"

John began his rubbing duty again. A thought occurred to him," you know if you want I have some ibuprofen it would probably relieve the tension a bit, lower your blood pressure,” he said delicately,

“I'm not moving. Every time I sit up we have Niagara Falls from my nose and the migraine gets a thousand times worse."

“You’re just being dramatic,"

" I am not. If you keep fussing with me you'll have it in a week so I hope you’ll be a soldier then too"

" Right, because you certainly won’t bring me tea and give me massages,"

Sherlock tried to look up at John with a hurt expression, " of course I would. I bring you tea while you invalid your entire life away filling up your silly blog what’s one more day!"

John realized Sherlock was trailing his fingers up and down the vein in his arm weakly, and that he was rubbing back in the same rhythm, his thumb on Sherlock’s ribs. Something had become suddenly more. It never knocked or asked, it was just suddenly too late to take back, some silent word had been spoken. John smiled down at Sherlock, looking up at him through his black eyelashes. John sighed heavily and the curl on Sherlock’s forehead rolled aside. John watched his eyes flutter, and smiled more. "how about some tea with drugs in?" He offered, not sure what to say,

Sherlock’s eyes lit up, " what've you got?"

"Calm down, not- I was joking- decongestant, sleep aid."

Sherlock grouched again, disappointed, "fine"

John carefully extricated himself from under his head; the warmth in his heart had spread a bit lower and he didn’t fancy explaining that. He rearranged the union jack pillow snugly under Sherlock’s head.

Sherlock tried to sit up but then winced again in pain, "It’s so cold in here, is there a draft?" he wailed as John trotted into the kitchen.

" No its just your fever starting. Lay down, I’ll bring down the comforter from my bed in a mo."

When John returned, Sherlock had propped himself up and scooted into the spot where John had been sitting, "Can’t anything make this stop? Why haven’t you doctors figured out yet how to cure it!" He growled as John laid his comforter over him,

John ignored the jab at his profession and returned to the kitchen to mix some sleep aid into his friend’s tea enthusiastically, " It isn’t that simple. It’s a combination of your body’s defenses being temporarily down, and a variety of different microbes moving in. Your own not sleeping, and eating weird things, and smoking, and having more regular face to face interactions with corpses than real people is what’s done it."

“Stupid failing body, isn’t there anything you can do to make it just behave?"

" I know a few things that are said to work, we could try them, but really Sherlock, you’re going to have to learn patience," John returned, handing him the mug.

" What’s the alternative?"

" There’s no alternative! I know a bit of reflexology that I've heard can help, if you want to give it a try, but it’s not a cure!"

Sherlock scooted down and extended a pointed toe from beneath the blanket in invitation. John rolled his eyes and sat down beside him. He pulled the foot into his lap and began to rub, he could feel his movements being watched carefully, as Sherlock sipped his drink. He racked his brain for the points he had been taught to press and where to push. He stretched the muscles out and undid the knots in the flesh with his thumbs. He tugged on each one of the pale long toes and spread them apart rubbing in between each and trying not to savor the smooth texture of Sherlock’s skin against his own. When he finished with the feet he worked up the ankle and shin, careful not to tug on Sherlock’s fine auburn hair.

" That feels so good John " Sherlock said dreamily, he had closed his eyes and abandoned his empty cup o’ drugs on the coffee table. John rubbed above his knees the way the woman who had taught him Chinese medicine had shown him for decongesting. He ran the sides of his hand over the muscle in long swipes. Pushing the blankets aside, he bent Sherlock’s knee up to get better access to the pressure points. When he had finished one leg, he bent the other up and started on it. He glanced down, and noticed Sherlock had become fully erect now, the poor bloke.

“ My headache feels completely gone John,” Sherlock murmured scooting down to rest his head on the pillow.

“I think we can see why that’s happened, " John chuckled.

Sherlock squinted downward, and then blushed deeply, covering his eyes, "oh ew get rid of it."

John laughed, "it’ll go away, relax, but really, it might help you go to sleep if you just had a wank. I won’t watch you; I’ll go upstairs and blog my mind away, as you say. "

" No! You have to keep massaging so it doesn't hurt! Furthermore, I don't wank!" Sherlock said defensively.

" Everyone wanks!" John chuckled

" I don’t, even the sight of it makes me nauseous, it looks like I feel, ugh!"

" Listen, you need to get some rest, if you’re trying to get me to do it for you-"

Sherlock looked up expectantly, uncovering his eyes,

John started laughing uncontrollably at his friends face. He leaned forward and gave the cock before him a poke,

"No!" Sherlock jolted up but then recoiled back down clutching his forehead.

John rested his elbows on either side of Sherlock’s hips and looked down at the neglected organ, amused. "Is it true he never wanks you? He's a nasty man, you probably gave him this headache didn’t you? Payback,” He had Sherlock pinned and the poor man was turning redder and redder. John absent-mindedly smoothed the fabric of Sherlock’s pajamas down to see it's shape, inadvertently causing it to harden more. “Circumcised too! Oh boy, this one's had a hard life. Though, probably a good idea in the long run, you should see some of the older clients I get,”

Sherlock stopped groaning in embarrassment, “What clients?"

"My clients, at the surgery, you know where I go for twelve hours a day?"

"Oh"

John stared at him incredulously, "You know I'm not actually a figment of your imagination right?"

" Yes yes, what about the weird cases?" Sherlock looked intent and interested, his hands again steepled beneath his chin.

" Clients"

“God it’s cold, yes tell me about the clients.” Sherlock reached his hands out and tugged at John’s shirt, trying to pull him up like a blanket. John allowed himself to be arranged to Sherlock’s satisfaction.

" And rub my head too."

" Fine! All right, just stop tugging! This is not exactly comfortable,” (John was lying) he tucked them in under the two blankets and rested his head on Sherlock’s shoulder while rubbing the other side of his head. Sherlock closed his eyes and relaxed.

John whispered in Sherlock’s ear, " I once had an old man who had shrunk so much he actually lost his prick in the foreskin and I had to go in there and find it and he had to have surgery to remove the excess skin." John began quietly

Sherlock rumbled happily, vibrating their new cocoon.

"At that age, it basically turns into a really saggy vagina. They can’t keep it clean and they’ve got to sit down to pee ‘cause it just gets everywhere anyhow,"

" So I take it I shall have to thank mummy next Christmas for her foreskin foresight?"

" Please don’t" John said trying not to laugh, both began chuckling anyway.

"Don’t laugh you’re rubbing on me" John tried to say, only making them both laugh harder.

" I’m not trying to!" Sherlock squirmed in embarrassment. He attempted to bury his face beneath John's, but their lips brushed and locked. Sherlock inhaled as John made a tiny sigh. The heat beneath the comforter swelled to a burn. Fuck oh fuck, John pushed his tongue into Sherlock’s mouth and pushed up against him, John opened his eyes and looked into his friend’s, glassy blue, open and honest, Sherlock's hands gripped his waist.

"This is very poor practice, making out with sick people,” John whispered against his lips.

"You’re a bad doctor" Sherlock said his voice wet.

“I’m an excellent doctor, look, your headache is gone."

Sherlock tilted his head and searched out John's lips again. They slowly tasted each other, Sherlock’s thick lips raw from tissue paper, against johns’ soft small ones. Sherlock licked carefully at them as if waiting permission to enter. John opened to him and basked in the electric shocks coursing through him. The heat in their cocoon was causing sweat to stick together behind their knees. Sherlock held them tight together. When he broke the kiss, John nipped his lip.

"Ow"

" Lets go in your room I don’t fancy Mrs. Hudson walking in tomorrow and saying, " Oh that’s lovely you boys are having a lie in!"

Sherlock groaned, "no high pitched noises please"

They wrestled off the couch in a heap of covers and eventually stumbled into Sherlock’s bed. The sheets felt deliciously cool to John but Sherlock curled up shivering. John tucked them in and then wrapped himself around Sherlock, his nose buried in his black hair. Sherlock’s long warm fingers pulled John’s hand around into his chest and held it. Slowly he felt the breath inside the ball of friend even out and the shivering stilled.

“ Feeling better?” John pressed a kiss to the damp curls at the base of his neck.

Sherlock nodded and tilted his head back brushing the smooth angles of his face against John's cheek.

“ John, is this only for my recovery?” he asked quietly,

“Pardon?” John mumbled, kissing his cheek,

“ You’re kissing me”

“ I know.” John freed his hand and let it trail down the long stomach before him lightly.

“ Is it just to make me feel better?” Sherlock asked quite seriously,

John rested his hand below the waistband of Sherlock’s pajamas and brushed the firmness there. “ No” he replied with another kiss,

Sherlock settled back into the pillow and pushed back against him with a huffed impatient wine,

“ Shhhh, relax,” John slipped his hand around the thick shaft and slowly pulled in slow strokes. Sherlock placed his hand on his arm, but made no move to pull him away.

“ God I’d love to have my mouth around it, sucking on that beautiful cock” John growled in his ear, causing Sherlock's eyes to widen and a moan to escape him, “ Feel you come on my tongue like a good boy,” John really did, but mostly said so to see how red he could make Sherlock’s face. " maybe even down my throat?" 

Sherlock’s breathing became heavy and he clutched John's arm.

Pre-come slicked up John's hand, and he could feel Sherlock pushing up to meet his movements.“I want to feel you come” John Kissed him, feeling his heartbeat in the head of Sherlock’s cock. He pressed his thighs flush to the back of Sherlock’s and let him feel his own reaction in the cleft of his arse. “Come on, you know I’m hard just thinking about you doing that,”

Suddenly Sherlock stilled, his eyes snapped over to John’s. His mouth open, he shuddered, he looked like he was at war with his body,both terrified yet wanting to loose control.

“ It’s ok sweetheart, I want you to, please, nice and hard,” John coaxed, his lips on the skin of Sherlock’s shoulder. “Kiss me and spill into my hand, good, that’s good-“ John covered Sherlock’s lips with his and kissed him deeply, feeling the warm ejaculate run down his fingers. Sherlock gripped his arm tight unable to let go. Both lay for a moment catching their breath. John sat up slowly and kissed his lovers forehead.” How’s your headache?”

“ Whatshfu..”

“ Shhh, rhetorical question, shhh”

He took off his shirt and cleaned them up, as his companion watched dazedly. When he curled back around Sherlock, his breaths had become deep and long. His patient was asleep. John inhaled deeply the scent of Sherlock’s skin in his bed. He loved this pain in the arse. His eyes drifted closed, the last thing he saw before sleep was a jar of eyeballs staring back at him.

**Author's Note:**

> As anyone who reads my work knows, I correct errors as I see them, if you see one let me know loves.


End file.
